Miss Murder
by Put out of your mind
Summary: She's a con-artist, a murderer, a criminal, a monster. There's no way he should love her, she's disgusting, repulsive, but she's also his wife and his lover, and for some reason, he can't turn away, can't refuse her, so he too must be a sinner. sasusaku
1. Monster

_(they call her)_** M i s s M u r d e r **

And as you bleed upon that floor

Think of me softly

And die without pain

* * *

Synopsis: Haruno Sakura is a world famous criminal, who not only is a con artist, but a pretty damn good one, willing to do anything to get to her goal, including murder, assault, theft, and using sex as a weapon. She's greedy, power hungry, and cocky. And Uchiha Sasuke might just be the richest man she's ever laid eyes on.

* * *

**Chapitre Une:**

_(they call her)_

**M o n s t e r**

* * *

Sakura Haruno was a con-artist.

And a pretty damn good one at that, no one would suspect a pretty little girl like her to be such a horrid thing. Everything about her was such a pretty lie. All those cute little smiles, those fluttering lashes, pretending to be ever so interested in what her mark was saying. It was just a hideous lie, all of it, because in reality, her smile was a deviously hidden smirk, her fluttering lashes was just a good way of drawing attention to her eyes, the so called "windows to the soul". It built trust, and quickly, and that was all she needed, a little bit of trust, and she was in. They would give in to her desires with the snap of her fingers, and she would use them until they were all used up, and then she removed them, moving onto the next one. If only they could really see what was going on inside that pretty little head of hers, if only they could really see what she was thinking. Maybe then they would see the disgust in her eyes when they spoke to her, and the utter revulsion that flashed through them when she touched them. Perhaps then they would see the blood in her eyes, and the greed in her stare.

Sakura Haruno knew that what she did was wrong.

However, if the men were to be as easy as they were, it was conceivable that they deserved to have their money stolen and a bullet in their brain. They called her the Black Widow, because maybe that's what she was, but she wasn't that.

She was a con-artist.

Con-**artist.**

What she did was a skill, and she was very good at what she did.

She seduced rich men, married them, took their money, and poof, they ended up dead. And then she'd pick a new wig, contacts, buy a new wardrobe, and ditch, moving to a place where nobody knew her.

Some of her marks were small, some were monstrous, and plenty were all around the world., but none of them had names.

They weren't people, just marks, her fresh victims.

And her current mark had come to the end of his use.

* * *

Tomoe Kaori stepped delicately across the marble tile of her current residence, her black stilettos clicking as she walked. She moved with grace, femininity, elegance, she was like poetry in motion. And with her huge baby blue eyes, and long, perfectly curled raven hair that always seemed to be perfectly in place, it was easy to perceive her as such. She was lovely beyond all comparison, she was absolutely enchanting, and it seemed fitting that she would be living in such a magnificent manor such as the one she was current walking across.

The foyer she moved across was decidedly nondescript for such a lovely abode, a gold chandelier hung from the high arched ceiling, and windows that would usually bring in plenty of light were dark with nightfall. It was late, perhaps, 3 am or so. The weather outside was cold, judging from the snow falling outside, gently highlighted by the moonlight.

The dress she wore was black as well, a color she often favored in her wardrobe, simply because it seemed to go with nearly everything., and it was short, and tight, not hardly anything you'd imagine one wearing in one's own home. But she didn't really consider herself a resident of this house, anyways, the twenty three year old was simply a doll there, who lived to please her husband: A housewife. She carried a large black purse with her, as always.

She reached the heavily carpeted steps, her heels sinking into the plush crimson carpeting. This house was much too garish for her tastes anyway, it wasn't anything she'd like to call her home forever, she hoped she and her husband could someday move somewhere a little smaller, that wasn't such a hassle to clean, perhaps by a lake or something, and they would have kids, two, one named Amaterasu, and the other Miki, one boy and one girl.

She walked up the steps with an aura of flawlessness, her perfectly manicured fingers matching her perfectly manicured toes. Her husband's office was just down the hall, and she was going to give him a little surprise visit, as she knew he'd still be awake, working. He was always working, Tomoe Fugiko was, it seemed. She had often told him that she wished he'd spend at least a little more time with her.

She strutted down the hallway softly, her heels clicking with telltale sounds, before rapping gently on the rich mahogany door that barred his office from the hallway.

"Come in." The words were so formal, though he had already known who it was.

She pushed the door open, all bedroom eyes and coy smiles, and her middle aged husband glances up at her, entranced. He is thin, his face lined and his longish dark hair streaked with grey.

"Kaori? What are you doing up so late?" He blinks in surprise at his exquisite specimen of a wife. Kaori would usually be out by 10, it was a wonder that she was up so very late.'

Though she is dressed and her make-up is still smudge free and her hair still coifed to perfection, she tells him, "I couldn't sleep… So I thought, we could, you know…" She shuts the door behind her with a soft thud, and approaches him, her heart thundering.

She'd been looking forward to this.

He spins his desk chair around to face her when she suddenly moves around the desk, coming in at his left. She clambers up neatly into his lap, her arms settling around his neck, slender fingers entwined in his hair. Her bag drops to the floor, unnoticed.

"…Do some stuff to pass the time…" She smiles seductively, at him, and he feels all will to work on his business dissolve almost instantaneously. His wife was beautiful, lovely, ever so pleasant and perfect. She was the best thing to ever happen to him.

She kisses him suddenly, a soft and gentle kiss, and he can feel the passion explode into his stomach. He wants her, and has only ever wanted her, for he doubts he could love a woman as much as he loves her.

She rips off his shirt with one careful and precise fluid movement, the buttons popping as she helps him out of it, her hands already trailing down to his belt and unbuckling it with a demure smile, and then she's moving aside her panties, and for ten blissful minutes they are joined, her rocking on top of him with excellent balance and skill, and then it's over, and he's spilling inside her, not caring for protection, she's been wanting kids for a while now anyway.

He gives her a loving, tender kiss. Soft and chaste, the way he knew she liked it.

"Well, that was exciting." He murmured into her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, so delicious it had to be wicked, "What's next?"

She leaned back, away from him, a sinful smile on her face, "I'm afraid I have something to tell you, love." She rummaged in her dress.

He frowned a little, "What is it? Is something wrong? Are you pregnant?"

She gave a spiteful little laugh, so evil and horrid sounding, how could this be his lovely, kind, perfect wife, Kaori?

"… Kaori?"

"Mr. Tomoe, I want a divorce."

A pistol came out in a flash, and the barrel pressed up against his skull, cold and unforgiving.

His eyes grew wide, and she smirked, "Then… This was…"

"Break up sex."

The gun fired, and there was a bullet between his eyes, right where it belonged.

And Tomoe Kaori, a newly widowed bride, carefully unpinned her wig, and popped out her contacts, stuffing them in her bag, revealing two vivid green pupils and long, luscious rose pink hair that flowed to her shoulders and became Haruno Sakura once again.

And Haruno Sakura was not the perfect housewife, was not devoted to her husband, and sure as hell didn't want kids.

Tomoe Fugiko wasn't even fit to lick her left stiletto.

Haruno Sakura knew that what she did, her art, made her a sinner.

Haruno Sakura knew she was a monster.

**A/N: Thank you for reading, please review, for I am quite the praise whore. Constructive criticism is appreciated and intensely wanted.**

**I'm also looking for a beta... But I don't have a clue how those sort of arrangements work: Someone help me, please?**

**=3 Love and trolls,**

**-Charlotte**


	2. Shameless

_(they call her) _**M i s s M u r d e r**

Take my hand, understand

Enjoy this fleeting moment

In gentle, breaking silence

* * *

**Chapitre deux: **

_(they call her)_

**S h a m e l e s s**

* * *

When Sakura got back to her apartment that morning, in a town three hundred miles away from the one that she had just gotten married in a month ago, she was sure that they wouldn't be able to trace her, wouldn't ever be able to find her. The money had been withdrawn the night before, and was buried in an undisclosed location, and would stay there for at least three years before she even dared to access it. Her wig had been burned and her contacts had been flushed down the toilet there. She looked nothing like she did before, with wild, windblown pink hair and vivid peridot eyes, her red lips had given way to lush dark pink ones, and her formal clothes had been replaced with casual indigo skinny jeans, black booties, and a grey v-neck t-shirt.

The first thing she did when she walked through her front door was rush to the bathroom, strip off her clothes, and crank up the water in the shower as hot as it could go.

She felt _dirty_, absolutely disgusting. It would be weeks before she could wash that man's touch off her skin, months before she'd be able to think back to her (24th or 23rd marriage in counting, she wasn't quite sure where he was anymore, she'd stopped keeping track a while ago) fondly, and even start to believe she could start spending that dirty money (she'd take great pleasure in that, like she always did).

She stepped under the blistering hot water jets and stood there, reaching for the loofa and the bar of soap that had been unused for the past three months, and began to scrub, as she always did when she first got home. All she wanted was to get him off of her, to get them all off of her. She wanted to feel clean again.

She scoured her flesh until it was pink and raw, but it wouldn't go, just as it never did, but it was always worth a try. Her hair came next, though it felt relatively cleaner compared to her chest and thighs. (She can't remember how many hands have touched there, how many lips have grazed there)

And when she is done, and the blistering hot water continues to burn her delicate flesh, she falls to the shower floor, curling her knees to her chest and cries.

She's a whore, and she knows it.

But it's so worth it, if it weren't for what she did, she wouldn't be able to live such a life as the one she did then, and she'd have to go back to living on the streets.

She supposed she had enough money to support her for a long while, but with her shopping habits (Temari had always told her that people shopped because they hoped to fill the hole in their heart with things) she would probably only last a year or so.

She bought clothes, wigs, cars, shoes, houses, she had everything she could possibly want, but she still wanted more.

She wouldn't be satisfied till she had it all.

* * *

When she gets out of the shower, she goes and curls up in her living room, clicking on the TV. The news is on, but she already knows the headlining story.

"Serial killer, Miss Murder, strikes again!" The anchor announces in a fakefakefake concerned theatrical tone, "This time, prestigious lawyer, Tomoe Fugiko is found in his office, shot between the eyes. Once again, it is certain that he took part in sexual activities immediately prior to his death. We are certain that this is another killing by the famed Miss Murder, and we urge all single men with money to be careful who you're approached by." The show cuts to a clip of a body being wheeled out of the Tomoe manor into an ambulance, a white sheet obscuring the face of the victim.

She giggles. It's so easy not to get caught, so easy to hide from the law, so easy to do whatever it was she wanted.

A face appears on the television screen and it is her wedding photo, a picture of both the late Tomoe Fugiko, and his wife Kaori.

"Tomoe Kaori is currently the number one suspect in the murder of Tomoe Fugiko. All of his assets disappeared the day prior to his murder, and Kaori is no where to be found, and no one has even the slightest of clues to where she could be. If you know the whereabouts, or anything regarding, Ms. Tomoe, please dial the number on your screen.

Sakura scoffed, as if she'd be as stupid to talk to any of Fugiko's friends regarding herself, all of their conversations had been shallow and completely overly polite and impersonal. They knew absolutely nothing about Tomoe Kaori, except that she was exceptionally beautiful and made her husband a very very very happy man.

"And now to our next story!" A handsome young man flashed across the screen, "Uchiha Sasuke, CEO of Uchiha Incorporated has announced the opening of a New York branch of business!"

A female anchor sitting to the right of the overly smiley male one grinned and faked a look of surprise, "Oh wow! What does Uchiha Incorporated make anyway?"

The male anchor turned to his cohort and immediately responded with a scripted, "Military weaponry and computer software. They truly are quite the scary company."

"Now they'll be making it for the American's too, I presume?" The woman asked, trying her best to look interested, but failing completely.

Sakura, however, sung a different tune. Military stuff? This company was bound to have a hell of a lot of money. Her interest captured, she couldn't help but lean forward a little, eyes and ears completely focused on the television screen.

"Oh yes, as one of Japan's biggest allies, it seemed fitting that they would be gifted with such a privilege."

Sakura's eyes flickered down to the laptop that sat on her coffee table. She needed more information.

Flipping open the laptop after so long felt great, Tomoe Kaori was supposedly terrible with electronics. She felt a surge of excitement as the screen flickered to life with a loading bar. UCHIHA INC. flashed brightly across the screen.

Why hadn't she noticed that before? So Uchiha Inc. made computer software for private computers as well? How many doors did this company have it's foot stuck?

Clicking on the small blue e in the corner of her destop, she navigated her way through the search engines, finally ending up on a page that looked promising.

"**Run by the esteemed Uchiha Sasuke after the passing of his father and mother, and the disappearance of his brother, Uchiha Inc. is celebrated as one of the most innovative companies of our time and is expected to climb even higher in the world's market."**

Uchiha Sasuke, huh?

She googled his name, and the first link that popped up, she clicked.

"**Uchiha Sasuke: Richest man in the world?"**

A picture of who she assumed to be Uchiha Sasuke hung beneath.

She went slack jawed.

He was younger than any of her previous marks, with strong masculine features that seemed so chiseled and perfect however, they seemed almost girlish in the delicate details of them. With thick raven hair that hung in his eyes and spiked out dangerously at the back, and deepdeepdeep onyx orbs set in his eyes, he was easily the most attractive man she had ever set eyes on. His lips were set into a stern scowl, which led her to believe he either didn't like having his picture taken (but how could someone with such a beautiful face not like having their beauty saved forever?), or he was an incredibly serious man, and his hands were set in his pockets firmly, pushing the expensive looking fabric of his suit coat back and away from his perfectly sculpted hips, and he was rather tall.

…. She was salivating wasn't she?

Swallowing hard, Sakura scrolled down and began to read the article. It was the first sentence that made her decision.

"**Uchiha Sasuke's assets, when compared to any other billionaire's, would easily pin point him as the richest man on the planet."**

Uchiha Sasuke, you have officially caught the attention of Miss Murder, the Black Widow, the Bloody Bride. (She'd always preferred Miss Murder to all her other serial killer names)

She had found her new mark, and so quickly, she didn't even have to do that much research.

She'd wait a week, and then she'd strike, but not as Haruno Sakura. She'd have to devise a whole new persona for her next endeavor.

* * *

**A/N: Oh dear, oh dear, seems like Sasuke-kun's just landed himself in a spot of trouble. He'll have to be careful, because I don't suppose Sakura plans on playing nice. But I'm sure she'll find Sasuke-kun more than enough of a challenge.**

**Please review! Constructive criticism, flames, praise, anything!**

**And I'd like to thank all of my reviewers up to this point, I do love you guys.**

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**-Charlotte**


	3. Mastermind

_(they call her) _**M i s s M u r d e r**

Cigarette, breathe deep

Lose yourself to the ash

Cracked concrete, gum stuck, bits of glass, can't sleep

Why don't you give me all of your cash?

**Chapitre trois: **

_(they call her)_

**M a s t e r m i n d**

"Oi, teme!" A voice that could only belong to one blonde pain in the ass roared through the mahogany wood of his office door, banging knocks following suit, "What the hell are you still doing in there?"

Uchiha Sasuke glanced up from his paperwork with a piercing stare that he was certain that moron could feel through the heavy paneling. A fountain pen rested poised in his long fingers, a onyx stoned ring adorning his right index finger. His aristocratic features portrayed annoyance, as they almost always did. Annoyance or apathy, he hardly ever conveyed anything else, but that only served to fit his stern persona all the better.

"Paperwork." He grunted reluctantly, eyes realigning themselves with the tiny print on the forms on his desk.

The door burst open, and a boy with wild spiked yellow blonde hair stood in the doorway, arms crossed, foot tapping. He sported a melodramatic scowl, that only succeeded in making him look more like a frustrated child then he already did, even dressed in a black suit like he was. Surprising for business attire was the shock orange shirt that he had chosen to wear beneath his suitcoat, a matching black tie over it. It wasn't hard to see that it was his favorite color.

"You promised me that we were going to get shit faced tonight, you listless bastard!" Uzumaki Naruto bellowed, making the raven haired Uchiha flinch and mess up on what he was writing.

"I promised you nothing." The scratching of his pen continued, as did the twitching of his eyebrow.

The blonde strode into the room, whining, "Yes you did! Yes you did!"

"No. No I did not. I simply told you that if I had time on Friday, I would perhaps go out and do something with you." Naruto was an insufferable person sometimes, and a drunk Naruto was a far worse subject then he was sober, far more annoying, far more reckless, far more stupid.

(He doesn't even like to think of stupid drunk Naruto's ridiculous adventures, like the time when he hid on the roof of someone's car and went for a joyride, then slid down the windshield the next time they parked and jumped and ran for it. Naruto still didn't remember that particular episode.)

Not that Naruto was a lightweight, oh he was far from it, but he never knew how much was enough. He drank until the room spun and he couldn't remember his girlfriend's name ("I-I'm Hinata… Naruto-kun…")

Sasuke preferred to drink till he was numb, and that was it. The world didn't have to spin, as long as he couldn't feel, he was fine.

Life was better that way.

The form underneath his pen was suddenly ripped away from his desk, leaving a long inky line running down the paper. Sasuke's hand clenched around the pen harshly.

"Give it back, dobe."

"Not until you promise to drink with me tonight! We can go right now, and you can get all that awful homework done on Sunday, like all the smart people do!"

"You mean the slackers, and it isn't homework, those are contracts I have to read."

"Whatever, whatever." Sasuke tapped his pen on the desk angrily, and Naruto shook his finger, "Ah, ah, ah, you better get your pretty boy ass in gear for some partying tonight or else your papery boyfriend here will get it." He snatched the garish gold letter opener off the desk and held it to the paper like a knife.

Sasuke wanted to slam his head down on his desk until it bled.

"Fine, whatever, now give it back, you bloody moron. I should fucking fire you for insubordination." Sasuke held his hand out for the piece of paper, gesturing expectantly.

"Ah! You wouldn't fire me, would you, Sasuke-chan? Would you be more obliged to keep me on your payroll if I acted more like _Karin?"_

"Shut up." The raven replied blandly, "I'll go."

Three words rang through Uzumaki Naruto's head as he paraded out of his boss/best friend's office.

_Hell fucking yes._

_

* * *

_

Tokyo was a filthy place, Sakura had long ago decided.

An awful horrible place for man, a rat hole of society, where money ran everything and everyone, including herself (Not that she wasn't compelled by avarice everywhere.) Prostitution run amuck, and everyone had a secret that they didn't want anyone to know about.

Sakura had a few secrets of her own, of course. Things that she would kill to keep a secret, such as all the people she'd killed and the blood that stained her soul.

Her shoulder length pink hair was rather shaggy from not getting cut in a while, though she had recently snipped her bangs back into submission herself, just last night, so that they swooped just above her left eye, and her hair was parted as such.

Taptaptap, her cigarette bounced on the railing, getting rid of extra ash to prevent it falling and burning her hand. She took a long drag and reveled in the indulging and cancer causing smoke with a sense of satisfaction that only a person with a severe nicotine addiction could possess.

This was her third cigarette in the last hour.

Sakura didn't smoke.

Or so she liked to tell herself.

She also liked to tell herself she wasn't a murderer with a lust for power and money.

Selective thinking was a delightful thing, really.

Today, she was clad in indigo skinny jeans once again, and an overly large wine coloured sweater that only hung over one lithe shoulder and with sleeves that she could easily clench in her delicate fists (her nails were painted mint blue today, such a lovely colour) paired with chestnut brown moccasins.

Her mascara was thick and made her eyes look even bigger than they already were, but the rest of her face was clear of a spot of make-up, leaving the huge grey shadows under her eyes visible for all to see.

She lounged across the street of the Uchiha Inc. main headquarters, her back to an urban decaying brick wall, and the light of a streetlamp brightening up the deserted street.

She waited, and she watched.

But she wasn't sure what she was waiting for.

She had told herself that she had come to watch for her mark, but it was Saturday, and the building was closed. No one had gone in or out all day except for a man with blonde hair who still hadn't come out yet.

Maybe it was just because she didn't feel like going back to her hotel.

Probably. Probably.

So she pushed herself off the wall and sighed a tired sigh and crossed the street, tiny feet making little scraping sounds as she dragged them with the dejection of someone who was lost, or just wanted to be.

She'd come back on Monday, maybe even sneak into the building and take a look around during all the business-y chaos that most likely went down during the day. It was an excellent plan, she'd get a feel for his environment, maybe even question some of the employees about their boss a little.

She walked down the street, and turned the corner quietly. She had to take the train back to her hotel, something she was not looking forward to. The train was quite possibly the most disgusting thing she had ever been on in her life and back when she had originally moved out of Tokyo she had sworn to herself she would never go back on.

Ever.

But she had today, and re-experienced it and made that vow all over again, knowing full well she'd be breaking it in the next few hours. But, man, the gum, the stench, the company. Everything about the train disgusted her.

"Shit." A voice said behind her, boisterous and intruding on her pleasant walking silence. She didn't bother to turn around and look at the asshole, knowing full well that making eye contact with a stranger while walking alone in the dark streets of Tokyo was a bad idea by itself, not just by pairing it with the nasty threat she had been tempted to throw behind her.

"Hey, excuse me, miss?" The voice chimed again, closer than it had been before, and even more annoying. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it, he is not talking to you, he is not talking to you, take another drag, breathe, another.

A strong hand closed around her covered shoulder, intent on getting her attention.

"What do you want?" She shot him a glare over her shoulder, making her annoyance as obvious as she could.

"Ah, sorry." A sheepish blonde boy-man scratched the back of his head, sticking an awkward smile on his scarred face. He had blue eyes, and the strangest suit. She instantly recognized him as the man she had seen walking into the Uchiha Inc. building.

Tensed, she wondered if he had noticed her staking out the building not 15 minutes ago.

"No, it's fine." She breathed, on edge, the scowl vanishing from her face to be replaced with a polite line, "What is it?"

She batted her eyelashes, onetwothree, hoping to erase any former notion about her.

He blinked in surprise at her sudden change in demeanor, but grinned a wolfish grin in response, eagerly bounding forward for the bait she had quickly thrown out in front of him.

"I, uh, ran out of cigarettes." He rushed, suddenly nervous and not what she expected him to be, "You wouldn't have any, would you?" He pointed to the lit cancer stick perched neatly between her candlestick fingers, and looked pleading, "I'm dying here, really, I might go into nicotine withdrawal right now if you don't share."

Instantly recognizing the flirtatiousness, Sakura gave a small smirk. This opportunity had fallen right into her lap, and so conveniently! Her luck was almost inhuman.

"And if I don't want to?" She retorted, walking again, as he fell into step beside her.

"I might have to mug you right here, then, if only to save my own life and health." He joked, reaching his hand out for her cigarette, which she quickly held out of reach, batting his hand away.

"I like to think that I'm helping you right now." She shot back, "Cigarettes are bad for your health, and bring it, I could totally take you."

But she still handed him her already half-smoked cigarette and produced a half full carton of Marlboros from her jean pocket, shaking out another.

Flickflickflick, flame, burn orangeyred, exhale grey.

He took a drag, looking infinitely grateful, "I'm Uzumaki Naruto."

"Sakura. Surname withheld."

"Why withheld?" He questioned, quirking a brow.

"I have no desire for another stalker." She grinned playfully.

He looked wounded, and shot her puppy dog eyes, "I'm not a stalker, Surnamewithheld Sakura!"

"Sureeee. Not yet, anyway. I guarantee by the time we split up, you'll have an urge to follow me." She knew it was true. She had designed the way she flirted to leave even the most proud men trailing after her like lost and beaten dogs.

"Well, for the time being, Sakura-chan, don't you know that it's dangerous for pretty girls like you to be wandering around Tokyo at night?" Naruto grinned back, but the concern was evident on his face.

"I'm fine. I can take care of myself." She was aware that suddenly asking questions about his place of business would be a bit out of context, so she was not about to reject a walk home from this childish, foolish, yet strangely endearing young man, knowing that the time would give her a chance to befriend and most like interrogate him.

"Bullshit! How tall are you, huh?" He crossed his arms like a three year old, shaking a disapproving expression at her, "Four feet?"

"I'm five three, asshole!" She placed a hand over her heart, and pretended to look offended, all the while keeping her grin on her face.

He clicked his tongue, "Close enough."

"Not even." She shot back.

"Ah, Sakura-chan, what would you say if I asked you if you wanted to go for a drink?"

"Where and when?" She looked at him incredulous, as if it was obvious, "I need a good outing anyway, you can be my first new friend here, Naruto."

"Right here, right now." He replied, and then, a surprised face, "Did you just move here?  
"Awesome, and yes." She replied.

"Well then we totally have to go pay a visit to the street. We'll meet my bastard best friend there and have a party."

"Sure." Sakura nodded. Excellent. Like previously mentioned, her luck was amazingly high tonight, and every night.

She just hoped it wouldn't run out.

She didn't pull away when Naruto's long muscled arm wound around her shoulders and pulled her to him, "To keep safe," he quickly said.

She wondered who should really be thinking about safety, feeling the gun beneath her baggy sweater and tucked in the waistband of her jeans.

* * *

**Though I've been MIA for several months, I'm just going to pretend that I haven't been, because to be honest, I've just been plain busy.**

**But anyways, it appears that Naruto has entered the fray, and with some flirty tendencies AND a girlfriend! Do I smell some drama in the mix? Maybe a love triangle? And there's a mention of Karin!**

**Even though there is going to be some obvious Narusaku, this is still and forever shall be a sasusaku fic, I'm just setting things up for future conflict. Hee hee hee.**

**But anyways, my lovely darling readers, I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers from my previous chapters and implore you all to review.**

**Please? Please? I'm dying for an oppinion. Lessthanthree**

**So you best be clicking that button, lest I cry my little eyes out and am unable to continue writing.**

**-Charlotte**

**PS: Yes, that was a threat! Heh.**


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